AJ

"What's that?" you ask, raising your eyebrows at your boyfriend.

Yunho had just arrived home with a grocery bag in hand. He hadn't mentioned going to the store, so you were naturally curious about what he had bought.

"Ah, I heard about this ramyeon. It's supposed to be really spicy. I was hoping you'd try it with me," Yunho explains, holding the bag up and shaking it. He sets it down on the counter and gathers the things needed to prepare the food, dishes clinking as he moves.

You hesitate. You're not sure how well you'll do with something that's supposedly notorious for its spice level, but you suppose you could at least try it, just for the sake of entertaining him.

"I guess," you murmur, "We can give it a go."

Yunho smiles widely at you, eyes crinkling nearly shut. "Great," he responds, raising his voice to be heard over the tap as he fills a pot with water. "Why don't you go pick out a movie? I'll bring this in there when it's ready."

You nod and retreat to the living room, sighing as you collapse down onto the couch. Surely it can't be that bad. It's just ramyeon, after all.

You find a move quickly, queuing it up as you await your boyfriend and his ramyeon from hell. It doesn't take more than a few minutes for him to arrive at your side, a bowl in each hand. He passes one off to you and waves his hand in encouragement.

Taking one look at the contents of the bowl increases your reluctance. Just the color of the sauce covering the noodles intimidates you. It's a deep red color, with flakes of pepper visible throughout it.

"No way am I trying it first," you refuse, shaking your head as you set the bowl off to the side. You give him an expectant look and he snickers.

"Fine," he concedes, already working with his chopsticks. He's clearly excited, which only makes you feel more dutiful toward his wishes.

He feeds a large bite of the red-coated noodles into his mouth, then hums. He chews quickly, like he's trying to get it down as fast as he can. Once he swallows, he looks up at you with a grin.

"It is pretty spicy," he informs, as if his face isn't currently turning pink. It's clear to you that he's only trying not to scare you out of trying them yourself, so you grab your own bowl with a deep inhale.

"If this burns my tongue off, you have to give me yours," you huff, trying to add some humor to the situation as you gather the noodles between your chopsticks. You bring them to your mouth with your eyes shut.

When the flavor hits your taste buds, it's fine at first. You get about two seconds where it's actually quite pleasant. Then, the spice hits. It's overwhelming, and you swallow frantically, not even wasting time with chewing.

You feel your face erupt with heat. Your tongue burns and your eyes fill with tears. You cough, trying to get rid of the fiery sensation filling your entire mouth.

"Yunho," you choke out, "What the fuck."

Yunho huffs in amusement, reaching for you with a napkin in hand. Right before his hand meets your mouth he freezes.

Your cheeks are rosy and your forehead appears to have dampened slightly with sweat. His eyes are drawn right down to your lips, all swollen and moist. In his eyes, you look absolutely debauched.

He clears his throat and begins dabbing the soft paper against the corners of your mouth to clean up the remnants of sauce, his eyes downcast.

You catch your breath and set the bowl down again, collapsing onto him with your head on his thigh. "Yun," you grumble, looking up at him.

He makes the mistake of meeting your gaze, your eyes still watery and mouth still tinted pink.

He sees you like this and wants to devour you. To him, you look hotter than the ramyeon. You've always known he likes when you look messy, but you would never have expected him to be aroused by your mediocre spice-tolerance.

But, that doesn't stop him. He's on you in seconds, pulling you up to kiss you upside down, your nose mushed against his chin. It's an awkward position, an unpleasant angle, but he's sucking on your lips so eagerly, tasting the remnants of spice from the crevices of your mouth.

"You look awful," he mutters as he pulls back, saliva sticking to your lips and dripping across your cheeks. It sounds offensive, but you know to him it means he wants to tear you apart. And of course, you'll let him.

You close your eyes, relaxing in his hands, and he pulls you up towards him until your back rests against his chest. He leans down to kiss along the side of your neck, humming in contentment.

"You're warm," he breathes out as he wraps his arms around you, his breath fanning hot against your skin.

You lower a hand to rub his thigh where it sits beside your hip, massaging his quads gently. Yunho groans, dropping his head against your shoulder and grinding up against your back with a strained "baby…"

Turning your head to the side, you place a kiss to his head, rocking your hips back where he was just grinding on you, relishing in the little breathless moan it pulls out of him.

"Baby," he repeats, neediness growing apparent.

"What's wrong, Yuyu?" you coo, lifting the hand that's not on his thigh to hold the side of his face.

Yunho exhales shakily against your shoulder, slipping a hand around to feel your stomach, soft beneath his fingers. Carefully, he uses that placement as leverage to push you forward, keeping himself plastered to your back. You end up with your face pressed against the couch cushions and your hips up in the air.

He looms over you, his tall frame covering yours easily so he can keep his lips against your neck as he begins to rock against you. You can feel his erection clear as day where it's pressed against your ass through clothing. You can feel the way it throbs each time he moves.

Yunho pants into your ear, rutting against you frantically. His grip on you tightens, holding you still for better leverage.

"So… fucking good," he slurs, practically drooling over your skin. His hand that was on your stomach slides up your front until he cups your breast, squeezing it until the flesh spills between long fingers.

While his actions don't give you much directly, the noises he makes into your ear are plenty gratifying to you, his tiny whimpers like music to your ears.

"Yunho," you hum, turning your head to speak to him directly, "That feels good? You're gonna come like this?"

He whines at your teasing, trembling over you. Of course he could finish like this; you don't need to ask. He's done it before. Still, you know he loves when you make him feel pathetic, and you love the reactions it brings out of him.

He nods into the crook of your neck, snapping his hips harder against your ass, moving arrhythmically.

"You're gonna make a mess in your pants," you warn, his eyes rolling back in response as he stills with his cock pressed firmly between himself and your backside.

You feel it twitch against you a few times, then you feel the dampness. He came in his pants just as you expected, and you know you'll have to be the one to do the laundry.

For a moment, that makes you want to sigh. Then, Yunho whispers into your skin a soft "I love you," and you decide you can tolerate an extra chore.

"Are you sure?” Mingi murmurs as you climb onto the bed, his lips twisting into a pout when you forego a response and flop onto your back with your head hanging off the bed.

“I don’t want to, like, hurt you,” he says as he pushes hair out of your face.

You huff at him, voice strained when you answer, “I’ll be fine. You act like I’ve never sucked your dick before.”

He grumbles something that you can’t understand, his fingers stroking across your cheek.

“I promise you are not going to tear my throat with it, or something. I’m sure. Now whip it out,” you demand, to which he gives you a scandalized look, but begins unzipping his fly anyway.

He looks down at you and snickers, and you can’t blame him. You’re sure you look ridiculous right now with your head upside down and eyes straining to look at him.

Eventually, his dick is pulled out of his pants, standing leaking right above your face, just out of your reach. He’s doing that on purpose, but you know it’s not to tease. He’s much to impatient to ever tease you, so this clearly comes from a place of nervousness.

“Mingi,” you say, a little softer, but still exasperated, just to try and keep up the playful atmosphere that you know he works better in.

He looks at you and swallows, giving you those sweet, curious eyes.

“I’ll be fine,” you assure more firmly, and it seems to work at least a little, because his shoulders relax and he reaches down to grab a hold of his own dick, guiding it towards your mouth.

He misses the first couple times, smearing precome across your cheek with a quiet apology before doing the same to your chin. Once he finally gets himself aligned with your lips, you open your mouth wider, allowing him to slide in slowly. He doesn’t push past half at first, allowing you a moment to just feel him, to wiggle your tongue along the length and acquaint yourself with it.

Your hand reaching around to grab at the back of his thigh encourages him to push in further, until he hits the back of your throat. Your eyes water, you want to gag. It burns, but feels so good. You can feel him throbbing in your throat. You look up to try and catch a glimpse of him, but your view is mostly obstructed by his body.

You can see the slight scrunch of his face, the restraint he's exercising out of fear of hurting you. Unfortunately for him, you want it to hurt.

You swallow around him, constricting, the pressure causing his hips to jerk. You relax quickly, opening up your throat to avoid choking.

He groans and lowers his hand, resting it on your chin, his rings leaving a cool sensation against your skin.

"Oh, baby…" he murmurs, voice cracking, sounding divine in your ears, "It's so… so warm."

You go to respond, forgetting your mouth is full of him, forcing it to come out as a tense hum. He gasps, fingers slipping to your neck, resting there. He freezes for a moment, eyes blown wide in realization.

"Fuck, I can- Fuck," he stammers, running the tips of his fingers along the bulge in your esophagus, "I can feel it."

His fingers squeeze gently around it, not nearly enough to asphyxiate you, but enough to make his own eyes roll back into his head.

"'M sorry," he whimpers, then his hips start moving. He's thrusting into your mouth like he can't help himself, whining and gasping every time the tip collides with the wall of your throat before slipping in deeper.

His fingers tremble where they rest before sliding down to hold your scruff, pressing into the sides and making you go limp. You can just vaguely see where his free hand slides up the front of his torso, jewelry-clad fingers dipping between the ridges of his abs before moving to grope at his chest.

He's rough with it now, head thrown back as he moans openly with each inward thrust. Your hand, still on the back of his thigh, drifts upward to feel about his ass, squeezing and kneading and bringing him to practically fold in on himself.

The rhythm is lost quickly, he's wailing desperately with each now-shallow push forward. He clutches at the back of your neck as he toys with his own nipple between two fingertips, lost in mindless pleasure.

He fucks into your mouth twice more before shoving in deep, his pelvis flush with your chin, tufts of kempt hair tickling your face. His hand is back on the front of your neck. He squeezes, then begins sliding his fingers up and down the projection in your throat, jerking himself through your skin.

In just some seconds, he's coming down your throat, so deep you couldn't spit it out even if you wanted to. You can feel his cock throb with each spurt of his release. He stays there a moment longer, gasping and panting through his orgasm, before slowly sliding out of your mouth.

He looks at you, eyebrows pinched with worry and guilt. "…I'm sorry," he breathes out, quickly helping you sit up.

"I- Uh- I'll…" he tries, only to whine in frustration before scurrying out of the room, leaving you dazed and lightheaded from the amount of blood that rushed to your head in the time you were stuck on your back.

He returns shortly, a rag and a glass of water in hand. He sits on the edge of the bed beside you, reaching out to take your chin in his hand, holding you steady as he wipes the drying saliva and semen from your mouth and cheeks.

"I didn't hurt you, did I?" he asks nervously as he transfers the glass to your hands.

You take a sip of the room temperature water and shake your head. "No," you answer, and your voice is practically gone. Mingi's lips jut out in a pout at the sound and he pulls you into his chest, strong arms keeping you tightly against him.

"I'm so sorry," he strains, then he's diving in to press featherlight kisses to your throat. You squeal, shoving at his shoulders in a futile attempt to escape the ticklish sensation.

"Mingi!" you yelp, snickering at his antics, "It's fine- I'm fine!"

He pulls away from you reluctantly, still frowning at you. "Are you sure?" he asks, and you groan.

"I'm sure," you assure.

"Like, really sure?" he asks again, to which you give him a deadpan look, "Like, not even a little sore..?"

You huff, roll your eyes, and poke his cheek. "Well obviously I'm a little sore. You weren't all that gentle."

Mingi gasps, then he tackles you into the mattress, rubbing his face all over your neck.

"So I need to kiss it better," he declares, and you know there's no point in arguing.